Paint your Palette
by Persephone999
Summary: 16-year-old Renesmee's life is odd enough with a family like hers. How will she cope when her life starts to take more serious turns? Join Nessie as she deals with imprinting and more sinister sides of the vampire world.


Disclaimer: Not my lab, I just like to blow stuff up in here.

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Paint your Palette

Chapter 1: Fisherman on the Beach

Jacob played a lot of jokes. Aunt Rosalie had threatened him with plenty of cruel, unusual, flea-collar related punishments for making stupid comments about her hair, or for asking her basic maths questions and gasping in mock amazement when she got them right. Oh, and there was that one time when he showed up at the house with fake fangs, a cape and ketchup running down his chin on Halloween... well, I thought it was funny. And usually, being with Jacob _was _fun. My weekly cliffdiving lessons and our weekends fishing(we never caught anything) usually turned into one big stand up comedy performance with my friend as the star.

However, this week was a little different(to put it mildly) for several reasons. Number one- I was late.  
"Time to get up!" my mother's voice shouted, shoving through the door. Groaning, I yanked the covers over my head, cocooning myself in the sheets.  
"Five more minutes, Mom,"  
"You said that ten minutes ago, Reneesme," I clamped my eyes shut. _Couldn't she have called me Judy or something instead of making me sound like some kind of weird monster?_  
"But it's Saturday," I whined. Wasn't it bad enough I had to listen to her and Dad messing around and acting like idiots in the dead of night without having to get up on weekends? _I bet normal people sleep in on weekends_. "What time is it?"  
"Half eleven," she shouted back, the words shattering my sleepiness. Within a second, I was on the other side of the room, yanking on a random outfit. I stared in horror at my clock- twenty minutes to noon. In other words, two hours late to cliffdiving.  
"Shit soup!"  
"What did you say?"  
"I said 'Sweet soup'," Grabbing a rubber band from the dresser, I thundered down the stairs with the grace of a drunk, ice-skating elephant. At least I wasn't going to see anywhere I'd need to look nice. "Bye!"

So I'm running late, I thought as I ran down the road, zipping my jacket up and rehearsing my apology in my head until I was about ten minutes away. Jake would understand. It wasn't like I'd killed someone. Then, and only then, did a realisation whack me in the face.  
_Oh, damn._ My flask. I turned around and darted back to the house. _How could you have forgotten that, Nessie, you moron?_ Thankfully, I knew I'd left it in my bag by the door- so that I wouldn't forget it- and had it in my hand within seconds of getting back to the house. So Mom had been onto something when she told me to prepare the night before. Clutching the little plastic bottle, I felt a slight pang of guilt and hoped Gramps wouldn't notice I hadn't drank my weekly treat from the blood bank when he gave me it. Was that a bad thing to do? Not telling him, I mean. It wasn't a secret as such, nothing to be ashamed of. It just wasn't something to be proud of. Like nits. Normally, I just told people it was mouthwash- something I could have as a "just in case", except I was trying to prevent going on a killing spree instead of bad breath.

Anyway, after about half an hour of rehearsing an apology, I saw a figure hanging by the cliffs, waiting for me.  
"Jacob!" The stickman turned, raising his arm- could've been a wave, could've been threatening to hit me for being late. At least I had a nice, long apology ready for him.  
"Thought you weren't coming for a minute,"  
"Long story. Are you ready?"  
"As always. You?"  
"Yep," I grinned. "Did you bring the bait?" He hesitated before checking his front pockets, then his jacket, then any other pocket he could find.  
"Damn. Ah well, it's not like we've ever caught anything." he joked, pointing a finger at me with was meant to be a serious expression. "_You're_ bad luck." _Not my fault you can't fish._ I edged forward to prepare myself for the plunge below.

We stepped towards the edge, gazing at the water shouting below. "Three," We stepped apart. "Two-" Without warning, Jacob jumped, letting the sea swallow him. I squinted, searching for his head. I couldn't see it. _Oh God..._  
"Jacob!" I screeched. I was probably fussing over nothing. My friend knew what he was doing. _He'd be fine, right? Wouldn't he?_ "Jacob, are you ok? Oh, please, no." I backed away from the cliff face, molton lead glazing my eyes. _Come back up_, I begged silently, tears rushing, not quite spilling over my cheeks. _Please be safe._

"Nessie!" I peered over the edge. Sure enough, my prayers had been answered. "You're so gullible sometimes," he snorted, grinning despite the water dripping down his face. What a sense of humour.  
"Oh, very funny," He laughed louder at my response, but kept his head above water.  
"Aw, come on. We'll call it even for you being late, now jump in," I gulped, swallowing the scene in front of me. The sun's feeble attempts to shove through the clouds shielding Forks tinted the sea a peridot green, the sky a smoky quartz.  
"Is it cold?"  
"What do you think? Why, scared?"  
"No! I'll jump on three, ok? One-"  
"Fourty two!"  
"Tw-"  
"Seven!"  
"Eigh- Jacob, stop putting me off! One. T-"  
"Nineteen!"  
"Oh, screw it," Closing my eyes tightly, I put my foot forward and jumped just before the ground disappeared beneath me, plummeting into the cool water below.


End file.
